Venting Is Healthy
by mistressmarionette
Summary: Light TakeshixHikaru. Hikaru meets a certain talent agent while burning off some frustrations at the gym.


Crack pairings. I don't see enough of them. In fact, this is the first one I've ever written, and I've never seen any for the Princess Ai fandom. There's a lot of stuff I haven't seen for this fandom. We need to get to work, people.

By the way, I mostly hated Hikaru during the series. It was hard to write him without changing him entirely, but I feel like I did okay. What do you think?

Rated for excessive swearing. I tried to moderate it, but Takeshi and Hikaru are both pretty pissed in this. And, by the way, this is a bit AU from my other two Princess Ai fics. I referenced Tattoo Stories a little, but otherwise I don't consider this one to be part of the other two's stories.

So, the story: Hikaru and Takeshi meet by accident in the gym and discuss their frustrating "gay" relationships. Oh, how I wish I could see the looks on your faces. Set somewhere between the concert and the world tour.

Oh, and boxers…uh, I have no clue as to what I'm writing about in half of this. Try to understand: I take ballet lessons. I think boxing is ucky, no offense. I don't like sweating. And no, I'm not overweight. Please try to understand any mistakes I made in the description of boxing and the technique behind it.

* * *

**Venting (Is Healthy)**

Hikaru hadn't been planning on going to the gym that day, but circumstances were proving to be a bitch.

And there was no better way to beat off a bitch than by going to the gym.

He had nabbed a punching bag all for himself, and just started going for it. He had barely warmed up. He just sunk his fists in, over and over and over. His heart was skipping like a rabbit, a comforting rhythm that kept his firing pulse on the go. He was getting some suggestive looks from a few of the other men in the gym, even some envious ones.

On any other day, Hikaru would have felt like royalty.

Today wasn't a royal day.

_**Thunk, slam, smack, thunk**_ over and over and over. As certain gay friends would say, righteous rage righteously spent.

"Jesus Christ," Said a vaguely familiar voice. "You look pissed."

It was, without a doubt, one of the people on his list of last persons he'd want to be in a gym with.

That talent agent guy, Takeshi.

Mr. Polished Leather and Expensive Cologne himself.

Pretty much everyone Hikaru cared about hated Takeshi. That made Takeshi hate-worthy by law.

"Bite me," Hikaru spat.

The jerk's lip curled. "Find a faggot. Or get a vagina. Then we'll talk."

Hikaru was sorely tempted to turn Takeshi into a punching bag, but starting a fight would have capped off his day in the worst of ways. He threw his rage back at the real punching bag instead.

_**Thunk!**_

"You'll hurt yourself if you keep going like that," Takeshi informed him.

_**Slam!**_

"Could ruin your arm," Takeshi continued doggedly.

_**Smack!**_

"Whatever," The agent rolled his eyes. "I've got better things to worry about."

"Doesn't everybody!" Hikaru sent one in especially deep. "You and every other fucking person I know!"

"Ah. You got stood up?"

Anyone else would have killed on sight. The fact that it was Takeshi making a hole in one about Hikaru's day had enough shock factor to keep Hikaru's reaction to a slower murder attempt.

It didn't matter anyway. Takeshi caught Hikaru's fists with ease, and kept a grip on them with what seemed to be a complete lack of effort. After holding them there for a few seconds while Hikaru caught his breath, he pushed him away. Hikaru managed to notice, during all this, that Takeshi was wearing a plain white tee and blue gym shorts. He could see unicorn hooves and a fish tail just below the shirt sleeves.

"Whatever!" He finally shot back. It was one of the worst comebacks he'd ever made in his life. "Kent can go to hell."

He heard Takeshi chuckle, and had to stop himself from grinding his teeth to dust. Grinding teeth, as certain gay friends would say, was incredibly unattractive. "I figured it was Kent."

"Don't start."

"Start what?" Takeshi shrugged. "I wasn't planning on starting anything. I was _planning_ on working off some steam." And with that, he abandoned the conversation for bench-pressing.

Hikaru tried to go back to beating the living hell out of his punching bag, but curiosity got the better of him. He angled himself so he could both hit and watch at the same time. He had heard rumors that Takeshi was a yakuza, and yakuza meant tough as nails.

Tough as nails could be darn attractive when it wanted to be.

Hikaru couldn't see the weight Takeshi had the machine set on, but he could see that his breathing was being kept even and firm. His chest rising slowly up and down…Ai, in a moment of camaraderie, had told him about the giant sun tattoo burned into Takeshi's stomach, but he had yet to see it for himself. He _wanted_ to; he could almost imagine that it was burning through the cotton of Takeshi's shirt just so he could see---

Takeshi racked the weights and sat up. "Hi. Why are we staring at me?"

Hikaru snorted. "I wasn't---"

"I'm straight as a telephone pole, you know."

"Like I care!"

Takeshi shrugged. "Just making sure." He lay back down. "Stop staring at me."

"I wasn't in the first place!"

"Good. Now stop."

Hikaru snarled, zeroing his focus in on the punching bag. Imagining it was Takeshi's face in the plain cover…but Takeshi's face became Kent's. And he couldn't punch Kent.

But if it was Ai…

His vigor awakened, his attacked with renewed force.

Across the little path leading from machine to machine, Takeshi's presses had slowed. Out of the corner of his eye, Hikaru noticed him sit up again.

The talent agent sighed. "Not that I care or anything, but what the fuck's up your ass? Really?"

"Ai!" Hikaru heard himself snap.

"Aha!" Takeshi leaned in a little. "I was hoping it was. I recognized the look on your face. The "I Hate Ai" glare of death." He grinned. "So what'd she do?"

That made Hikaru pause. "Well, nothing, really. Not today," he rubbed the back of his neck with his glove. "But it's still her fault."

Takeshi didn't say anything. Hikaru decided it was Takeshi's way of asking him to continue, so he did. Venting always felt good.

"I mean, I've really been trying to give her and Kent space, you know? They're an item, and she may be a bitch but I've got to respect that. I've been trying really hard, too." He began to take shots at the bag again. "But that doesn't mean—" _**Thunk.**_ "—that I should _never_ be allowed to see Kent—" _**Slam.**_ "—does it? I mean, he's my _roommate._" _**Smack.**_ "I've got dibs on him, too."

Still no response from Takeshi. Hikaru was too worked up to care.

"So I figured, whatever, we can just set aside a little time, right. We're fucking _roommates._" _**Slam.**_ "So I asked him if he'd meet me today, and he agreed—" _**Smack!**_ "--and I was _so happy_, 'cause it meant we were still cool!" _**Thunk.**_ "I was always afraid he was really, really mad about how I was when I first met Ai. But I thought that if he was—" _**Slam.**_ "--we could at least talk about it today…"

It was getting harder to breathe, but he couldn't make himself slow down.

"And he totally _blew me off_. You know what he said?" _**Thunk.**_ "'Sorry, dude, but something's come up.'" _**Whack!**_ "He didn't even offer to reschedule, and me cut me off when I tried to ask him about that too! He's _leaving_ in a couple days!" _**Smack! **_"It wouldn't kill him to put aside a little time for other people!" _**Slam!**_ "For me!"

Hikaru changed his angle, so he was hitting lower. At his level, it was especially low. He had always hated being so short.

"You know, I spent _forever_ trying to get to know him!" _**Smack**_. "Everybody wanted his attention, but I got it! I was never so happy in my _life_—" _**Thunk**_. "—then when he said it would be cool if we were roommates! People got—" _**Slam!**_ "—really jealous. And he was so _nice_ back then. Like—" _**Thunk.**_ "—he actually _talked_ to me. He was _interested_ in me. We did stuff together---" _**Slam.**_ "—and he at least _seemed _ to enjoy it. He even told me that he suspected he was bi! People don't just—" _**Smack!**_ "—_say_ stuff like that! And I thought if he was serious, 'cause I figured he was too nice to—" _**Thunk.**_ "—lead people on, than it could work, right? It made _sense!_"

The power seemed to leave his arms; Hikaru was left puffing angrily in front of the bag.

"I was _winning_," He said desperately. "He was going to be _mine_."

Hikaru couldn't look over at the talent agent to see his reaction. As if Takeshi cared. He kept talking anyway. It just felt good to _talk._

He began to slide one of the gloves off his hand. "You know, I came out to Kent. My parents never could have handled it. But he was so supportive. I thought it meant we were going to be soul mates." He chuckled weakly. "Pretty dumb, huh?"

"No."

Hikaru turned in surprise. Takeshi was shaking his head. "No. It's not dumb. It's logical. But people aren't."

"Huh." It was the most Hikaru could make himself say. He jammed the glove back on his hand, and began to take a few more swings. "It's not so much that I hate Ai for stealing him. Even though she did. And she's a bitch. It's just that they're so good together. What they have is so special. I want something like that too."

Takeshi shrugged. "We all do."

Hikaru stepped back from his bag. "Okay. Your turn."

"To what?"

"Vent. It's healthy. Please!" Hikaru burst when he saw Takeshi's face. "I'd feel so bad if it was just me, me, me, going on and on and on…"

"I've got nothing to vent about," Takeshi laid back down, and began presses again. "My life's good."

"Is not."

"Is too."

"Is not!"

"It is too! How isn't it?"

"Your boss is a yakuza king. Your coworker hates you. You work with Ai."

"Yes to the last one, no to the others. Hayabusa isn't so deep in the yakuza. And Hiro and I have a very healthy, paranoid relationship. It wouldn't be better with anybody else." He grunted thoughtfully as the bar came down. "I could use a raise, though."

"That's a start," Hikaru said encouragingly.

"Hiro is a bit of a bitch," Takeshi admitted after a few more seconds. "He's always on my case about my age. 'Cause I'm so much younger." He sighed. "Like, everybody at HTA is older than me."

"That sucks."

"And they all get on my case, too, you know? As if I haven't been working there long enough for them to just leave me the fuck alone. 'Cause I'm a "punk". I'm too old to be a punk. If I was still in the yakuza, they'd be calling me gramps. Hell, not even that. I'd be dead. They kill most guys before they hit thirty, you know."

Hikaru tried to swallow this information as casually as Takeshi said it.

"So, everybody at HTA is all like, "I ain't takin' nothin' from no punk", and then I'm all "Bitch, deal with it", and they don't do _anything_ I fucking say until Hayabusa says it, and then they're all, "Wow, that's so fucking genius!". It's really funny, actually. And you know how they celebrate birthdays at companies and shit? All I got was freaking card. Hiro got prime booze. They were all like, "Wow, way to de-age. Punk." Punk! I'm too old to be a fucking punk!"

Hikaru chuckled nervously, trying hard to keep in mind that he was the one who had asked Takeshi to vent in the first place. But nothing could stop him from backing away when Takeshi pushed the weights aside and jammed on some gloves. He attacked the punching bag, Hikaru thought, with all the venom of a serpent. Hikaru had always thought serpents suited Takeshi somehow. Quick, almost graceful movements, and a deceptively smooth kind of speaking that lulled you into a false sense of security before he struck.

"And Hayabusa—" _**Thunk**_ "--thinks it's the fucking funniest thing on the planet. I swear, if I didn't make—" _**Slam**_ "--that guy laugh so much I'd be dead by now. If he was a dog, I'd be his—" _**Smack**_ "--chew toy. You know all that "top agent" shit?" _**Thunk.**_" It's a load of fucking bull. I just know how to—" _**Thunk**_ "--push his buttons. And it's easy, too. Go watch The Godfather. I learned _everything_ from that movie."

Takeshi began getting into it, delivering more and more hits as his heat rose. To distract himself from his fear, Hikaru started up some rounds on his own bag again.

"And I don't get half the raises—" _**Thunk**_ "-- I deserve. You know how many shit-artists his other agents pull him?" _**Smack.**_ "I find all the good ones. Eight of his top ten were mine. And half of them—" _**Slam**_"-- weren't even that good. They were all pitchy." He was panting with exertion now.

"Yeah," Hikaru panted back. "Ai said you were pitch-perfect, like crazy."

"Seriously! And—" _**Slam**_" "--I give them basic advice—" _**Smack.**_ "--like, "Hey, wanna change that note? Since it's flat and it sucks and it ruins the song?" And—" _**Thunk**_. "--then they go all "Bitch, it's MY song!" and I'm like, "Okay, whatever, go fuck yourself" and the next day—" _**Thwack!**_ "-- they do. Because Hayabusa realizes that they've outlived their purpose, so he…he…"

"He? Takeshi?" Hikaru rested a hand on his bag so he could look at the agent. He looked stricken, his arms still frozen in boxing position, but not going anywhere. His punching bag was creaking too and fro, still carried by the force of his anger.

"Oh my fucking god," Takeshi said under his breath. "Fucking hell. Fucking _hell._"

"Takeshi, _what?_" Hikaru tried to chuckle. It didn't work. "You're scaring me."

"Nothing," Takeshi spat, flinging off his gloves and throwing himself on a nearby bench. "Hayabusa is a fucking smart business man, that's all."

"What do you mean?"

Takeshi laughed hollowly. "Nothing, I guess." He smiled sadly at Hikaru. "We're a pretty sad pair of losers, huh?"

It was a smile that, as certain gay friends would say, brought out the nurturing side of Hikaru. He smiled back. "Yeah. The people we love treat us like shit."

"I wouldn't call mine love," Takeshi said quietly. "Just habit, I guess. Yoshi says I'm really bad about that kind of stuff."

Hikaru shook his head, and began on his punching bag again. "You should leave him."

"I can't. You can't buy yourself back when you've already sold yourself out. It's a contract with the devil. I couldn't leave Hayabusa even if I wanted to."

"You don't want to?"

"You say Kent treats you like shit. But would you leave him?"

Hikaru's mouth screwed up into something sour. His next swing had more twist. "No, I guess not."

"And you don't let other things get in the way. I didn't either." Takeshi sighed. "I chose Hayabusa over one of the greatest things to ever happen to me. Every time something good has happened to me, I've had to give it up." He chuckled. "I guess that makes me his bitch, huh?"

That really hit it home. "Yeah. Both of us, huh?" He swung hard into the bag.

"Hey!" Takeshi sat up. "Your right hook is _awesome_."

"You think?" Hikaru chirped. "I always kinda thought so, but I've seen so much better—"

"No, no," Takeshi stood. "For your size, it's perfect. Better than perfect."

Hikaru blushed. "Well, thanks. No one's ever told me that."

"On your left, though, you get it a little high. Everything gets really tense. Here," Takeshi placed a restraining hand on Hikaru's left shoulder. "Try it."

Takeshi smelled like plain soap, not cologne as Hikaru had always imagined. Soap and smoke. Hikaru had always thought smoking was disgusting.

It did make for some colorful sex appeal, though.

He swung, His shoulder practically leaped into Takeshi's palm.

"There, see?" He heard Takeshi speaking above him, and twisted to look up at the agent. It was a good angle. "Too tight. Relax. Try it again."

It was tempting to do it wrong just so Takeshi would keep touching him, but Hikaru knew it would look desperate. And unimpressive. He let his shoulder drop a little and swung again. He was pleased to feel Takeshi's palm following the motion.

"Exactly. Just like that." When Takeshi's hand left his shoulder, Hikaru had to scold himself not to moon over good looks while the subject was still present. As certain gay friends would say, it simply wasn't done.

From there, the conversation slowed. A few sentences would roll out between them, then the thread would be lost in hard breathing and grunts. Hikaru's arms felt like they were on fire; it had been so long since he'd worked on any part of his body so hard.

The two of them called it quits about the same time, and in the changing room Hikaru's subconscious wish was granted. For nearly ten seconds, his view was graced with Takeshi's illustrious stomach tattoo. It was _perfect_; it rippled with Takeshi's muscles, glistened with his sweat, shone like a real sun. Above it, Hikaru imagined he could see Takeshi's heart beneath his skin, still beating fast from their workout.

"Didn't that thing hurt?"

It seemed to take Takeshi a few seconds to understand what he meant. "Oh. Yeah. Like a bitch. It almost got ruined, too. I'm pretty ticklish."

For some reason that even Hikaru couldn't identify, the idea of a giggling Takeshi made him blush.

"I've been thinking about getting a tattoo," He said quickly. "Not some big monster-print like _that_, but something small. I don't know. What do you think?"

"Don't."

_That_ unfavorable answer came much faster than Hikaru had expected. He almost got annoyed. "Why not?"

"Tattoos always seemed more like scars than decoration to me," Takeshi said through the fabric of his shirt as he yanked it over his head. "You're too young to be marked like that."

Was it his new insight on Takeshi's sex appeal, or was it just the idea of staying single for another week that was making Hikaru take everything the talent agent said in a darker, more erotic light?

After all, Takeshi was hot, and talented…and blonde. Three birds with one stone, you might say. Four, even. Between the two of them, they had more muscle than a circus strongman. Kent had never shown much interest in developing his body. Of course, he had been born as Perfection itself…

…or had he? The boy had done his share of drugs, and he could be such an airhead…of course, Takeshi probably did drugs too. And he was a smoker…but as it turned out, smoking could be kind of sexy. And so long as Takeshi kept the little cancer sticks away from him---

---wait. When had Takeshi become a potential affair?

"Hey."

Hikaru snapped back. "What?"

Takeshi was smirking. "You come to this gym usually?"

"Yeah."

"Cool. See you around then."

The talent agent began to walk off.

Hikaru was tempted to let him, just so he could take another look at that behind…

…_and let him have the last word? As if!_

"Hey!" He shouted. Takeshi peeked over his shoulder. Flushing, Hikaru said, "I'm going with you guys on Ai's tour. So you _will_ see me around."

Takeshi shrugged. "All right then."

He walked away. It took Hikaru a few minutes to realize that Takeshi had still gotten the last word. And that if he was going to go on the tour, he should probably hurry up and ask to.

Maybe Kent wouldn't mind…

That tattoo…it just didn't look so much like a sun to him. It looked like a compass, pointing north to his head, east and west to those odd animal tattoos, and south to his…his…

Hikaru blushed.

As certain gay friends would say, a thought like that was a definite sign of attraction.


End file.
